


ah, so you are, too?

by kindlingchild



Series: commissions [9]
Category: Twisted-Wonderland (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Body Swap AU, Commission work, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Heavy Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 22:01:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27413908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kindlingchild/pseuds/kindlingchild
Summary: Due to an unfortunate mistake by none other than Night Raven College's most troublesome student, Grim, Malleus and Leona find themselves trapped in each other's bodies. When Divus informs them that the antidote would take a month to concoct, both dorm leaders panic.Little do they know, beneath the bickering and bitterness, they lead similar lives. Too similar, some may argue, but such are the fates of two people meant for each other.(or, grim screws up a potion, malleus and leona "suffer" the consequences.)
Relationships: Malleus Draconia/Leona Kingscholar
Series: commissions [9]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1907299
Comments: 3
Kudos: 70





	ah, so you are, too?

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! it's me!! this is a commission for @bulankachan on twt! thanks for commissioning me blanc!! <3  
> this is my first time writing for twst >< please be kind! i know malleus and leona may be a little ooc.   
> i hope you enjoy nonetheless!!

It’s rather peculiar, the way Leona’s hands seem to mimic his own. 

The lion’s fingers are just as slender — if not more— and calloused from possible years of pen and paperwork. In a way, it narrates the grief that Leona claims to have suffered, reflecting itself in the way that sand refuses to spark from his fingertips, which causes Malleus to wonder to what extent Leona was truly oppressed as the secondborn. A fae with prestige such as Malleus would not understand the despair of being overlooked.

There’s a scowl stretched across Leona’s face— or, more accurately, Malleus’ own face— that the fae didn’t even realise he could make. The lion has his arms crossed, pose slacked in a way that is wholly improper, and Malleus forces himself to look away as the pristine, proper image he spent his life building seems to crumble away in an instant. Something akin to jealousy twists within him, winding around a heart that is not his own. Freedom— he wonders what such a dream would be like.

Crowley seems less annoyed and more amused, if anything, but such is the peculiar nature of the masked Headmaster. Yuu stands beside him, with their strange familiar, who continues to yap away in an attempt at fabricating some weak defense against their case. Crowley does not seem to believe it— outwardly, anyway, he always has been rather gullible— but the fleeting thoughts of suspicion seem to fade when the door slams open behind Malleus.

“I thought I told you two not to take the potion out of class!” Divus storms into the room, cane in hand, and cracks his whip to the floor. The crackle that erupts from the impact echoes through the room, and Malleus flinches at the sound. “Grimm, you never know how to listen to instructions. Do you want a severe punishment? Is that it?”

“N-No sir!” Grimm drops to the ground, cowering behind Yuu’s calves. The magicless student merely turns away, shaking their head. Divus allows another brief moment of anger to settle into the atmosphere as he turns his attention to the two dorm leaders standing before him. The potions professor squints in Malleus’ and Leona’s direction, and his eyes glisten with realisation almost instantly.

“To no fault of your own, you two have appeared to swap bodies.” Divus closes his fist, and the purple mist dissipates. “Now, I can concoct an antidote for you two, but it will take time and resources. Time that will expend more than you both are perhaps willing to wait.”   


A pause. The air grows thick. “One month.”

“A month?” Leona starts to laugh. It sounds nothing like Malleus’ own— though, admittedly, Malleus is rather unfamiliar with his own laugh. It’s oddly deep, gravelly, and almost sinister sounding. The mischievous glint in Leona’s eyes seems to fade all at once, replaced by something darker that lurks behind his pupils. The expression makes Malleus’ face look almost contorted, and the fae forces himself to look away. When he looks back, Leona is standing with his teeth bared and knees bent, eyes darkening.

“Kingscholar! Behave!” Crowley snaps his fingers, and all at once, Leona is chained to a pillar in the middle of the headmaster’s office. The prince struggles, but the chains only grow tighter, securing his limbs in place. “It is no fault of Professor Crewel’s own. Attacking a professor is a serious offence. I would expect someone of your ranking to understand the severity of such an offense.”   
  
“Of my ranking? What difference would it make?” Leona’s words are laced with venom. Small, black sparkles remain suspended in the air around the prince, and a bitterness begins to suffocate him. It’s the early signs of overblot, Malleus realises, and he stumbles back. The air is overwhelmingly heavy, and it forces its weight down on Malleus’ shoulders. The gift of magic is a heavy burden to bear.

Divus cracks his whip once more at Leona’s feet, forcing the lion to finally stop struggling against Crowley’s chains. Satisfied with the newfound silence, the potions professor continues his proposal.

“Anyway, I require ingredients not available to me within campus grounds. I will have to send an assistant to retrieve the necessary items for me, so you two will have to live as each other for the time-being.” An odd, sadistic smile seems to find its way across Divus’ face. “I will inform the staff. I’m sure Headmaster Crowley has a plan.”

“Why, of course I do! For I am the kindest headmaster there is,” The glowing eyes behind Crowley’s mask close as his lips upturn. “I will inform your respective dorms. Your main group of friends and assistants will be informed of this change. Due to your natures as large authoritative figures, we cannot let this be widespread news. It would look bad for both the school and each of your individual reputations.”

Malleus blinks, the information still churning in his head.

“As… each other?” is all the fae manages to say. The envy from before fades all at once, replaced by something colder. Malleus isn’t quite sure if he’s excited or incredibly frightened about this arrangement.

“Of course! I will inform the necessary students to ensure your assimilation into each other’s dorms are successful.”

Malleus cannot find any words to say. The coldness spreads itself across the shell of his heart and seeps into the space where life should be; yet the frostbite only eats away at the space it fills within an empty husk. _ What will become of my responsibilities? My reputation? What if that lion were to darn it all? _

He turns his attention to Leona, still chained against the pillar, before snapping his fingers and breaking the chains in half. Leona drops to the ground, coughing from the tension on his ribs, and Crowley glares down at him with eerily sharp yellow eyes. “Kingscholar. You are to be on the best behaviour. Do not ruin Draconia’s reputation.”

Malleus doesn’t remember being guided out of the headmaster’s office and back to Savanaclaw, nor does he remember the way Leona seems to stab daggers into his chest from just his glare. All he feels is the freezing sensation climbing up limbs that aren’t his, and numbing his brain.

* * *

Leona hates it. He hates the way magic seems to flow out of his body with the same ease as breathing. He hates that pale skin looks so pretty under the sunlight, rosy in ways Leona didn’t even know the fae was capable of turning. He hates that he finally understands why Malleus cowered in the way he did when Leona grew mad, that day in Crowley’s office.

The sparkles of black are unavoidable. They linger in the air like a curse and stick to Leona’s new skin like glue, leaving him sinking in an ocean of toxic magic that only seems to seep into his skin and bring aches to his chest. His hands are heavier than they were before, carrying so much power within their slenderness, and his shoulders are weighed down by the responsibilities Malleus keeps hidden to the public eye.

His first week at Diasomnia, he grows overconfident. Lilia beats the cockiness out of him within two days, and Leona quickly finds himself understanding why the fae always looks so weary.

There’s the oversensitivity to magic— it pierces him no matter where he goes, as long as magic is in the air— and the endless reports and interviews that Malleus has to attend outside of school. Between his own schoolwork and the infinite stream of press reports and paparazzi to attend to, Leona finds himself losing energy all too quickly. Sparks of others’ overblots stick to him and taint the very air he breathes, filling his lungs with tar. It grows hard to even lift himself out of bed, after a while, and the prince wonders if Malleus feels this miserable all the time.

At the start of the third week, he finds Lilia standing by his bedside when he wakes. The smaller fae isn’t smiling— a rare sight— and it almost frightens Leona. His arms are crossed, posture slacked, and he’s staring straight at Leona. The tar in his lungs sputters, and coughs escape from his lips before Leona can stop it. When he settles, he looks back at Lilia, and the fae’s smile has returned.

“Do you understand now, your highness?” Lilia’s eyes have always been an eerie colour of pink, but with the blinds closed and Malleus’ room mostly dark, they seem to taint the whole room in a neon glow. “Do you understand why Malleus wishes for you to grow up?”

“If you’ve come to provoke me this early in the morning, Vanrouge, then your time is better spent elsewhere.” Leona’s growl is softer and lighter than it would be in his own body. Since they swapped, all his attempts at intimidation had fallen flat (by his own standards)— Malleus’ body was simply not fit for physical aggressiveness. Whether that be due to Malleus’ nature or the fatigue that seemed to plague the fae’s existence, Leona didn’t want to think of the answer. He would not form a guilty conscience now.

Though, any physical aggressiveness did not seem to be needed in Malleus’ place— it seemed his very existence seemed to scare people. In a way, it was lonely, the way people seemed to run in the other direction upon catching a glance of his horns.

A finger hooks under his chin, and suddenly his head is being tilted upwards, eyes meeting bright, glaring pink. Lilia’s eyes glare in a way more sinister than Leona could ever manage, and the prince stiffens under the fae’s gaze. His finger is small but firm, and it holds Leona’s chin in place as the smile slowly disappears from his face.

“All Malleus has ever wanted from you is your  _ respect.” _ More sparks of black stick to Leona’s cheeks and seep into his mind. He can taste the bitterness of Lilia’s words on his tongue. “After spending almost a month in his body, I’d expect you to know of the pains he goes through, and have more empathy than that,  _ your highness. _ ”

_ He’s right _ , Leona comes to realise,  _ he’s right and you know it. _

He’s never bothered to ask how his brother is doing in his position of power. Pressure and stress seemed like privileges to Leona, but the tar that sticks to the walls of his lungs seem to speak otherwise. His inferiority complex manifests itself in the lumps stuck in his throat, and the prince finds himself choking on his own words. All at once, the reality he’s suffered for twenty years seems to shatter around him, and the reality of power sinks itself into his shoulders. He curls into himself. No tears flow out. He does not know how to cry.

Lilia stays by his side, a hand tracing circles into his scalp, akin to that of the loving father he never had.

* * *

Malleus comes to understand the bitterness that seems to fill every part of Leona’s body.

Ruggie gives him a quick rundown of his newfound place in Savanaclaw, to which Malleus expertly adapts to. The students respect him, though whether this is due to Leona’s own intimidation or his ranking as the second prince of Afterglow Savanna, Malleus isn’t quite sure. 

He gets calls from Leona’s family, and the king seems cold. He speaks to Malleus in a way that leaves the fae no space to speak his own words, and in a flash, the king disappears as if he were merely a messenger. It’s a drastic change from the calming (albeit strange) warmth that Lilia emits, and the space between Leona and his father seems to expand over much greater distances than his own relationship with Lilia. Slowly, he pieces the picture together, and the bitterness that lives within his new body seems to make more sense with each new revelation.

An abandoned child. A fleeting brother in a position of utmost importance. A shadow in his brother’s place, merely because of his place as a second child. Malleus finds himself unable to empathize, but the sting in his heart hurts all the same.

Leona’s power may very well rival his. Malleus would still win in a fight, given he had more magic to expend, but it would be a close fight. Leona’s sand could eradicate almost anything in his path, and was incredible as a defense mechanism, yet the prince seemed to waste it all away due to the despair of misery he’s been sentenced to. The prince is spoilt, and takes his power for granted — but in a strange way, Malleus understands his plight.

“He envies you, really.” Ruggie tells him one night, on the way back from the main campus. “He doesn’t hate you. He just wants what you have.”

“An incredible amount of stress and expectations?”

“To be _wanted,_ as much as he hates to admit it.” Ruggie laughs his signature laugh, but it sounds odd— sad, even. It hits Malleus all at once. The stunning realisation that Leona has been alone since birth, in a way not dissimilar to his own life— and it scares Malleus. The ice encrusting his chest begins to shatter, and when the pieces have fallen away, all that is left is an infant searching for warmth within the depths of the forest he was born in. Excitement, anticipation for a life less hectic dissipate all at once, and sharp pains begin to fill their place. The Valley of Thorns looks much darker than he remembers.

_ You and the prince are the same. _

He forces himself to stop in his tracks, the world beginning to blur. When Ruggie turns back, a ear flopped town inquisitively as he tilts his head, Malleus finds him looking almost mystic and ethereal. Beneath the glaring starlight, the sand beneath his feet seems to turn to clouds, and the air seems to reek of faerie magic. It is a scent he has not smelt in a long, long time.

“Hey, Draconia?” Ruggie’s voice sounds far away. The ground seems to sink beneath him. The clouds part and suddenly he’s falling, falling— into a world he doesn’t quite recognise. To share the pain of isolation with someone who has been graced with the world on a silver platter before him, Malleus isn’t quite sure if the emotions that swell within him quite mimic the ones that Ruggie has described.

Even so— Leona’s body seems to swell with the tornado growing within Malleus’ chest, and it’s almost as if these feelings were part of a routine. This inky, jet black tar that seems to encase everything it touches and engulf it in despair— it was not a sensation unknown to the prince. Malleus could feel the fatigue of Leona’s heart as it beat loudly in his ears, and it told him tales of panic and loneliness that sounded all too familiar to the fae.

When he wakes from his slumber, he is on Leona’s bed in the prince’s chambers. Ruggie and Jack pace at his bedside, and the former hyena realises his awakened state faster than the latter. They immediately rush to his bedside, and examine his exhausted state. Ruggie snaps his fingers and several forms of medication materialise in his hands, while Jack wrings a cold towel into a bucket beside him, and places the cloth across Malleus’ forehead.

It’s a welcome chill, to contrast the dark flames that glow ever brighter within his lungs. He allows himself to breathe— to clear the fog in his chest and fill his mind with some semblance of clarity— before weakly asking about his situation.

“You don’t remember? You collapsed on the way back.” Ruggie’s eyes are squinted, and the surprise in his voice greatly betrays the analysing look that has crossed his face. Jack, ever observant, places a hand on Ruggie’s shoulder and shakes his head softly. Jack turns to Malleus, and smiles. It’s a soft upturn of his lips, and it is a stark contrast to the delinquent-like appearance he normally has. It fills Malleus with a warmth similar to Lilia’s subtle love.  _ Family, _ he supposes, is what it feels like.

“It’s not important. What’s important is that you rest, Sir Malleus,” Jack gently coaxes Ruggie to stand, and soon enough, they are heading towards the door. Ruggie still seems to be glaring at him, eyes squinted with a slight glint of knowing hidden within icy blue oceans, and Malleus almost feels like he’s drowning.

“You and Leona are more similar than you realise, Draconia.” Ruggie’s tone is sharp, yet almost pitiful. The fae recoils from the force of the statement, sinking into Leona’s pillow. The bed smells like him— like musky cologne, plants from the greenhouse, and the desert sand— and Ruggie’s words echo in his skull even as Jack forces the hyena out of the room and shuts the door.

The words sink into him as he sleeps, and he dreams of a sunrise over a desert horizon that grows shadowed by a figure he does not recognise. A king, perhaps, but royalty is unknown to a lone fae such as he.

* * *

A month passes, and Divus finishes the antidote. They gulp it down simultaneously, and the world spins for a moment before Malleus finds himself stricken with the same overwhelming weight of magic in his chest. His skin feels cold, and the air feels stuffy— and he knows he has returned to the right body without even opening his eyes.

When he finally does, and his vision settles, Leona is looking at him strangely. The emerald of his eyes is lighter and less intense than that of Malleus’ own, but there’s a hint of…  _ kindness  _ that was definitely not present before. It’s unnerving yet oddly comforting, the tension in the atmosphere that seems to ripple with some sort of newfound respect for the other, and Malleus feels the tar in his chest grow lighter.

Leona’s gaze is softer as he walks away, tail swishing as he walks to the lift and gives Malleus one last secret look. It’s a look that makes Malleus’ chest grow tight, and the fae doesn’t quite know why. There’s some odd sense of kindness mixed in with his usual envy, and something even softer beyond that. It’s something warm, something restored— something Malleus finds himself seeking.

Strangely, the weight of magic seems to pull itself upwards by the strings, and Malleus no longer feels alone— not anymore. It is an odd feeling, the sensation of being  _ understood, _ and Malleus finds himself brushing his fingertips across his heart in an attempt at checking the permanence of this newfound warmth. It seems to stick itself to the inner walls of his heart, and the dark flames that have lived there since his birth are suddenly replaced by something much less suffocating. He feels almost free— free from the shackles of isolation that have shackled him down since birth— and it scares him.

Lilia finds him later that evening, as if sensing his distress  _ (in the same way Lilia always seemed to notice his moods)  _ and appears as he always does, upside down and directly in front of Malleus’ face. The sudden appearance no longer frightens Malleus, as the fae had been expecting it. There was little he could hide from his guardian, and such a sudden change in mood was definitely not one of them.

“Lay it on me, Malleus,” Lilia sounds nonchalant, but there’s a giveaway glimmer of concern in his eyes, as there always is. Lilia has always been one to show his soul through his eyes. “You’re sulking more than usual.”

Malleus turns towards his guardian. Lilia is small and youthful, but his age shows in the darkness behind his eyes. Through pink windows, Malleus can see concern, trauma and love all in one, and his heart aches at the sight. He forces himself to look away, and a small hand covers his own. Lilia has never been one to talk about his past, yet so much of it reveals itself in the way Lilia looks at Malleus— akin to a father and his child. Perhaps, on a fundamental level, that is what they are.

“If you’re wondering what his highness thinks of your situation after dwelling in your place for so long, I witnessed him cry for the first time.” Lilia’s hand is warm as it rests atop his. It has always been warm. Malleus’ neck snaps back, and his gaze is focused on Lilia in an instant. “It was quite the sight. I never would have thought the prince would be one to cry, let alone before me.”

“Where is he?” is all Malleus can say. His chest begins to constrict, ribs crumbling into dust that breezes away with the slightest of wind. His lungs are on fire— hot and suffocating— but in a way that spurs Malleus to stand and glare at Lilia with a determination he has never felt before. The flames are unlike the dark ones from before— the cold ones that left him drowning in a sea of despair that only he could see— and they feel like something akin to what others have described to him as “hope”. For once, Malleus is not the famous wizard, but a boy desperate to be known.

“You know where he is.”

Malleus lets the endless flow of magic in his veins flow out his fingertips, and neon green stretches across the vast expanse of Diasomnia and into realms beyond that of their dorm. The ley lines of his magic extend into Octavinelle, Pomefiore and Heartslabyul before he finally feels the coarseness of sand slip beneath his touch. All at once, the magic energies of several dozens of Savanaclaw students come rushing through the fae— but Leona’s aura is unmistakable. It’s considerably more powerful than anyone else in the dorm, and feels too similar to Malleus’ own magic energy.

It’s almost like coming home.

* * *

Leona is sitting on his balcony when Malleus finds him. It’s a cool night, as were most other nights, but the stars seem brighter. It almost seems like he’s returned to the night he collapsed in Leona’s body.

The prince’s tail stops swishing across the floor when Malleus enters his room. It’s an acknowledgement of his presence— but not a rejection, and Malleus takes it as his signal to walk to the balcony. The lion doesn’t move as Malleus approaches, but he shifts slightly to make space for Malleus to sit once he steps onto the balcony. Malleus takes his seat beside Leona, and the silence between them is thick, but strangely, not unwelcome.

It’s Leona who speaks first. It’s a surprise, but Malleus supposes the night will be full of surprises.

“Vanrouge told you, didn’t he?” He sounds annoyed, but the usual venom behind his words seems to be lacking. Malleus is never usually so brave— bravery comes to him in the form of a mask presented to the public— so he finds himself lost. Emotions are the same across every species of human, yet being raised by someone so decidedly inhumane, the fae never quite understood the wiles of feelings, let alone ones as complex as Leona’s. “About what happened when we were swapped.”

“He left out the specifics, but yes,” Malleus chooses his words carefully. “I’m sorry. I know it is stressful living in a position such as mine— ”

“You’re sorry?” Leona faces him for the first time since they swapped bodies, “You’re sorry for having an incredibly fatigued body that’s no fault of your own? You’re sorry for being born into a life you had no choice over?”   
  
The words are stuck in Malleus’ throat. Leona’s eyes are ever so green. They seem to sparkle beneath the moonlight in ways Malleus’ own could never manage.   
  
“All this time I envied you for being popular, powerful and  _ wanted—  _ yet the price you pay is ten times greater than the reward,” Leona looks more distressed than Malleus has ever seen him. His eyes are wide and frantic in ways Malleus didn’t even know Leona was capable of feeling, “I envied you for having what I don’t, only to learn that you are almost the same as me. It’s pathetic.”

“Yet, I cannot help but gravitate towards the only one who understands me.” Malleus’ voice is shaky, and any semblance of courage or dignity he had is quickly flung aside. The tremors in his hands match the instability of his voice, and he forces himself to look at Leona. If there was ever a time to confront someone head on, with all the emotions in the world, that moment was to be now. “During my time as you, I… came to understand the coldness of the world around you, Leona.”   
  
“You’re so sure about that?” Leona’s voice breaks at the end. He’s crumbling just as Lilia described, and Malleus reaches out his hands to catch the pieces that fall. “How are you so sure about that?”

Leona slumps into Malleus’ arms easily, as if he were meant to fit there. The lion’s body begins to tremble, and Malleus holds him close, letting the prince hide his face in the crook of Malleus’ neck. Leona is warm, warmer than Malleus could ever hope to be, and the fae feels like he’s finally understanding the depth of emotions. There’s a warmth that blooms in his chest, and it feels much like the heat Leona radiates as he leaks liquid sorrow into the fabric of Malleus’ uniform. Their skin tones are drastically different shades, yet beneath the moon’s graces, they appear all the same. 

“I understand,” Malleus finally finds the words to say after several moments of silent crying, “You aren’t alone anymore.”

Malleus has never seen the likes of a broken man before. He had naturally assumed most would look something like him— thinly pressed lips in place of a smile from years of stoicism ingrained into his blood. The man before him, after pulling away from Malleus’ neck, has streaks of tears streaming down tan skin, with glistening emerald eyes and a scar across his eye that seems to stand out more than it ever has in their several years of rivalry. Now more than ever, Malleus wants to trace a finger over it— so he does, and Leona melts into the touch.

“I don’t think I was ever capable of hating you,” Malleus’ words come naturally for the first time in a long time, and they leave his lips in the form of a whisper meant for just the two of them to hear, “I think I knew all this time that you were like me. I just didn’t want to believe it.”

“Loneliness made me selfish,” Leona’s tripping over his words, and he nuzzles his cheek into the palm of Malleus’ hand, now cupping the lion’s cheek. It’s endearing, the way Leona truly seems to be acting like a cat, a low purr humming at the back of his throat, just loud enough for Malleus’ ears to hear. There’s still tears, but they fall slower, as if the world had stopped just for the two of them. “I hated you for still being so dignified while suffering the same pain.”   
  
“It is merely a matter of circumstance, Leona,” Malleus coos, thumb tracing over the highs of Leona’s cheekbone. The lion allows himself a few more sobs, resting his head in Malleus’ hand. It is lighter than Malleus thought it would’ve been, but so are the remnants of Malleus’ burdens that have been left on his shoulders. On Leona’s own, he sees the same weights, and he can’t help the smile that crosses his face. He figures a bit of blind bravery would not be foolish, after everything that has conspired. “I… I like you more than I care to admit.”   
  
The prince’s eyes grow wide. There’s a child-like wonder on his face that Malleus has never seen before. It is beautiful. 

Leona smashes into him, teeth clashing and hands desperately grabbing at the fabric of Malleus’ uniform. It’s rough, messy and sloppy— and everything Malleus imagined kissing Leona would be like. It’s wordless, entirely based on action, yet Malleus receives Leona’s feelings as crystal clear as he could have hoped.

There are no fireworks. Kissing a lover is not as humans seem to have described it— as it seems to lack any sort of special effects or overwhelming sensations. When they kiss, the last bits of dark flame within Malleus’ chest subside, and are completely replaced by a warmer glow. Pale skin grows rosy and warm, and contrasts with the deepening shades of tan that flush across Leona’s tear-stained face. Leona’s lips are surprisingly soft for such a predator— but Malleus figures he would save that remark for another time.

Malleus pulls back, and within Leona’s eyes, he sees himself smiling. It is an odd sight, but a welcome one. Leona’s eyes soften as he sees something similar within Malleus’ own emeralds, and the lion leans into Malleus’ embrace. 

The fae reaches down and laces his fingers with Leona’s own, only to find that their hands truly do mimic each other. Yet, somehow, it does not seem as peculiar anymore. It seems only natural— for two people meant for each other to slot together like puzzle pieces.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> twitter: kitaguwu
> 
> thank you for reading!! kudos and comments are greatly appreciated <33


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